The Agony of Hope
by Rain of Joy
Summary: After Jane found out about his wife, she knows she has to leave Mr. Rochester, but what if he stops her before she has the chance to run?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

She had to leave and she knew it. If she stayed she might not be able to resist him, her dearest Edwar—no, now he was Mr. Rochester again. Dawn had yet to touch the sky, and so with silent footsteps she left the room that had been her home for so long. All of her things, there were not many, were carefully packed in the small bag that she carried with her. She brought none of the things he had bought for her. They weren't really hers; they belonged to a woman who died before she ever lived, a woman by the name of Mrs. Rochester. And now the woman who would have become this Mrs. Rochester, one Jane Eyre, was going to leave forever. A sense of disbelief stole over her as she passed by Adele's door.

"Shall I really never see dear little Adele again?" she mused. "This is all so impossible, so unbelievable!" The sound of heavy footfalls met her ear and she froze. Someone was pacing. _He _was pacing. She had fully intended to pass by his door without stopping, but she didn't; she couldn't.

"He's worried." Was the only thought that crossed her mind. Back and forth, to and fro he paced. Without thinking she reached for the brass door handle, wanting to go and comfort her love, but she caught herself just in time. How she longed to go to him! She needed to hear him say that he loved her and would never leave! She wanted to hear him say that this was all a dream, that he never had a wife, let alone a mad one. She wished to hear him say that this was all a horrible, terrible dream of her own creation; but it wasn't, and she knew it wasn't; and she knew she must leave. At that moment, however, a sound from within arrested her.

"Oh, Jane!" moaned Mr. Rochester in a low voice, "Oh my dearest, darling Jane!" he repeated in a strangled voice. His words were full of such misery, such despair that Jane felt her heart to be torn into tiny pieces. Her own unhappiness she could bear, and had done so before, but his! Could she live knowing that she had been the cause of such deep misery to the man she claimed to love more than anything in the world?

A soft "oh!" of pain and indecision escaped her lips. It was enough to alert him of her presence. The steps that had been so steady and monotonous before had ceased, and with in a moment the door to his room was wrenched open, revealing a very agitated Mr. Rochester. For a moment they stood staring at each other, and Jane felt herself lost in the chaos of emotion in his eyes. Hadn't he always told her that the eyes were the windows to the soul?

"My Jane, I could not sleep a wink," he began shakily, "Which, I suppose, is the same reason you are wandering about this godforsaken house at this late hour." Jane shook her head, aware that if she dared utter a word the last shreds of her resolve would be whisked away into the night. She must leave!

"No?" he asked perplexedly. "Tell me what that little shake of the head meant, Jane. For what other reason could you be out of bed?" She did not answer, but one look at her pale, drawn countenance would have told all to even the slowest observer.

"No, Jane." He said with a quiet force. She closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face. His voice! Surely it was the only voice that could be soft, commanding, pained, assured, and hopeful in two such insignificant words. "No, Jane." He repeated, "You may not leave. As your lover and your friend I know I have no right to ask you to remain in this cursed house, but I haven't been pacing for the last few hours to no avail. You have every right to be angry with me and to never wish to see me again. I know your greatness of heart and that you would never allow yourself to love me, or any man, who was tied to another. I do not say married, you see, because, as I told you before, I do not think that this deserves that name." He paused and glanced hopefully into her face, wondering if she might have changed her mind on that point, but she refused to meet his gaze.

"You may leave me, you may leave Thornfield, but can you leave Adele and Mrs. Fairfax? Not as your would-be-husband, not as your friend, but as your employer I beg you to stay and teach Adele. She would not like to go to school, and you are a good governess for her. Please stay, for her sake." Once again he paused, as if hoping for some sign that Jane would agree to this plan.

Throughout the whole of his speech, Jane's feelings had been torn first one way and then another. Half of her reveled in the newfound opportunity of staying near him; half knew that staying would be sentencing her heart to eternal agony. As if sensing her thoughts, Mr. Rochester continued:

"Do not worry that I would once again distress you by offering my suit while I am tied to that animal. I would come and go as I normally should, without reference to you or any other." Jane, who was by this time so encased in her own thoughts that she was hardly sensible of her surroundings, was scarcely aware that Mr. Rochester had taken her things and was gently guiding her back towards her bedroom. Should she accept? An hour ago she had been sure that it would be better to leave forever, but surely things had changed…

If she stayed at Thornfield she could return to the peaceful life before she had loved him. She would teach Adele, talk with Mrs. Fairfax over tea, and wander alone through the grounds. There would be time to draw and paint, time to read new books and learn new subjects. She would also be able to see E—Mr. Rochester without ever having to hold a real conversation with him. But what if he couldn't keep his word and came more often than he ought? That was enough to outweigh every advantage. However, where would she go if she left? Now that she had lost her first opportunity to run from him, she doubted very much whether she would ever have the strength to leave him.


	2. Change of Heart

A/N: I need a beta reader for this story, so if any of you are interesting please contact me! If you can speak and write French proficiently, I would also appreciate some help with Adele's lines. Thanks so much to all of my reviewers!

**Chapter 1: A New Beginning**

I awoke to the sound of birds singing at my window. The curtains were open, letting sunlight streamed in dance in intricate patterns across the floor. Everything was quiet and peaceful; everything except me.

I didn't remember much after Mr. Rochester had found me outside of his door. It was all a distant memory, like a dream that slips beyond the mind the moment one wakes. I fancied that he had led me to the door of my old room and put away my things himself, but it was logic more than memory that told me that.

It was a much later hour than when I normally woke, and I knew that Mrs. Fairfax would have already taken her breakfast. Mr. Rochester, indeed, might not have eaten yet, but I could not breakfast with him, for that would be improper. I must eat, I knew, as I had eaten very little the day before. If I even attempted to stay in my room, Mr. Rochester would come up, or maybe he would send Mrs. Fairfax…

This was no time to dwell on the past. I must go down and get myself some breakfast in the kitchen and then begin planning more lessons for Adele. With any luck, Mr. Rochester would be busy in his library or something and I would not have to see him. Making my way down the broad staircase, I came across Mr. Rochester, thankfully, but Mrs. Fairfax.

"Good morning, Jane!" she said cheerfully, "We were wondering when you would come down to breakfast." She was surprisingly happy, considering that her master's wedding had been canceled and he was sure to be in a foul mood. "There is breakfast for you in the kitchen; Leah made it not long since, so it will still be warm." I thanked her, but did not attempt further conversation. I was not in the mood for mindless chitchat. Mrs. Fairfax, however, was not going to allow silence.

"And so, my dear, I suppose Mr. Rochester told you that he is going to London this afternoon." She continued conversationally, "It is such a pity that he is leaving, as he probably will not return for a long while. I do wish he would decide to stay here and not go traveling all over the world as he is wont to do. I wonder how long he will stay away this time…Last time he traveled to London he went from there to Paris and thence to one of those Italian cities, I don't quite remember which." Mrs. Fairfax rambled on in this manner for some time, never giving me the slightest chance to speak. I had expected her to go about her duties after their conversation in the passageway, but Mrs. Fairfax followed me into the kitchen and sat down to breakfast with me.

"Mr. Rochester told me that you were still to teach Adele, so I have sent off a letter to the boarding school to inform them of the situation." Mrs. Fairfax chattered on amiably, "It is so unfortunate that the clergyman had to be called off to a deathbed just at the time you were to be married. Of course, it is all very sad that the woman died, but it is most inconvenient that it was at that particular time. And then that Mr. Rochester had to leave for London on business before you could ever have the chance to marry."

"Pardon me?" I interjected. What in heavens name was Mrs. Fairfax saying? A deathbed? Business in London? Had not Mr. Rochester told them of Mr. Mason and…his wife? Surely there was some mistake here.

"Why, the business about that investment in a London company. It is such a shame that he had to be called away on such short notice when, if things had gone well, he would have been marrying you. He told me, too, that he did not want to marry you while his affairs were so uncertain, and I completely agree. It would be no good to either of you if you married and then found that he had lost all of his money because of this investment business. I understand the situation completely, so you needn't be worried about concealment."

Concealment? This was utter madness! Had Mr. Rochester really invented some story of a dying woman and business affairs in London? For what purpose? The only benefits of this lie would be that I would not be pitied and he would not be considered as doing wrong. Could he lie simply to protect his character? In any case, it was not my place to disillusion the good Mrs. Fairfax. However much I might detest lying of all kinds, it was not right for me to expose my master as a liar. I must continue this charade.

Breakfast passed without any particular distinction. Mrs. Fairfax sat by me throughout the meal and then engaged me to help with sorting through some of Adele's old clothing. Adele herself had gone off with Sophie to play in the gardens, saying to me as she ran outside, "Mademoiselle, I am running away avec Sophie! We shan't be back until lunch."

The morning passed in suspense for me, though I endeavored to appear much as usual. Mrs. Fairfax attributed my little nervousness to the annoyance of having had my wedding delayed, but it was actually from dread of meeting Mr. Rochester. I knew from my friend that he had taken a ride early in the morning and was not yet returned; it necessarily followed that I would see him when he came home, sometime around dinner. My feelings wavered from extreme dread to strong desire to wishing I would not be near when he came. What would he say? How should I act? Mrs. Fairfax expected us to treat each other the same as before, but she was under mistaken notions. My thoughts swirled around my head like a raging river, never giving me a moments rest. I was sincerely grateful that my mind was not required in any of the little tasks Mrs. Fairfax assigned to me. Indeed, if I had been left to myself I would probably have sat motionless in a chair, just thinking over the whole state of things again and again.

At every sound from outside I would start and look up. More than once I had risen from the table where I sat with Mrs. Fairfax to go to the window; each time I was both disappointed and relieved to find that what I thought had been an approaching horse had merely been a stable boy passing across the gravel path or John returning on some errand or other. By the time I peeked through the curtain for the second time in ten minutes, even the patient Mrs. Fairfax was slightly irked by my behavior.

"You will hear the horse's steps long before he arrives," she informed me, "There is no need to watch out the window for him every few minutes. You might as well just sit in the window casement and stay there!" This brought me back to my post in a hurry, and I managed to stay seated for a full half hour. Still, time dragged by without bringing any sign of him. Where on earth could he have gone? He rarely stayed out for this long!

After another hour of anxious waiting on my part, I was finally rewarded, or punished, with the sound of a horse approaching at a leisurely pace. In a moment I was out of my chair and pulling the curtains aside, my eyes scanning the yard anxiously.

It was indeed Mr. Rochester. He sauntered up to the house as if he had not a care in the world. How could he be so calm? I must go to him! Carefully opening the old window, I leaned forward to call to him, but stopped when I beheld the murderous expression on his face.

"Miss Eyre, why do you lean out of the window in this way? Should not you be teaching Adele now?" He asked stiffly. I froze in my place. "Well, Miss Eyre?" He questioned sharply, "Are you incapable of speech?"

"No, sir." I replied numbly, shaking my head and closing the window, but he stopped me once again, his manner softened slightly. I do not know what emotion I saw veiled in his eyes; it might have been pity or it might have been love, but it was there, if only for a moment. The next moment he was harsh again and said:

"You have not answered my first question. Where is Adele, and why aren't you in the schoolroom with her?" I could not answer him at first. My voice was caught in my throat and I knew if I spoke my emotion would be evident, yet I dared not stay silent. To my immense relief Mrs. Fairfax, joining me at the window just then, answered for me.

"Oh, I told Adele and Sophie to go play in the gardens so that Miss Eyre and I could get through some of the household business. Which reminds me, I wanted to know what you wished me to do with Adele's old clothes. I know we usually use the scraps, but the orphanage asked if would donate to them." Mrs. Fairfax continued in this manner for some time, unheeded by either Mr. Rochester or me. We stood completely still in a sort of horrid staring contest; he looking coldly at me and I looking questioningly at him.

This did not end until Adele, just returned from the gardens with Sophie, came bounding up to us saying, "Monsieur Rochester, Monsieur Rochester, when may I go to town again? Mademoiselle Eyre and I enjoyed going to town the other day, and you did not get me a present as you promised!"

"Be off, child! I don't want to hear your chatter." commanded Mr. Rochester. Adele, not in the least bit put out, skipped out of the door with Sophie's hand in hers. Then, without a glance at me, he ordered his supper from Mrs. Fairfax and went to his room, leaving me wounded and confused. What had caused this change in a man who had so violently claimed my love not twelve hours before? What had possessed him to turn from a passionate man into a cold, hard statue, not caring for me anymore than he cared for the madwoman who resided upstairs?

It was with a heavy heart that I returned to my menial tasks with Mrs. Fairfax. My fingers worked mechanically, though my mind was many miles away. A ceaseless torrent of questions swept across my mind like the wind sweeps across the moors at night, one haunting me more than any other: Which was worse, living with a man whom I loved and who loved me but whom I could never marry, or living with a man whom I loved and who despised me?


	3. Guardian Angel

A/N: I would really appreciate it if someone would be a beta for this story, so if you're interested please contact me. Thanks to music nerd, Lillian C1, LadyShard, Carey, mystery of the night, Ali, paddington, and terbear for your great reviews!

**Guardian Angel**

I did not see Mr. Rochester again before he left for London. I think he avoided me, but I hardly cared, for I was avoiding him, too. I knew not what had brought about this change in my master, nor was I planning on learning; that would have taken spending time with him, which would have caused us both unnecessary pain. I may not have been able or even willing to run away from him again, but I never forgot my origin intention or the reasons behind it.

The night was drawing near and the wind howled across the moor, the promise of a storm in every breath of wind. After I finished pretending to eat supper, I went walking out in the gardens. A sense of déjà vu came over me as I recalled the many walks from Gateshead with Bessie and the Reed children; the same feeling of dread of returning to the house seized me, the same feeling of being unloved and unwanted in the silent, imposing house that should have been my refuge.

The rain came gradually at first so that I hardly noticed it. Then the heavens above me opened and the flood descended upon me. I was too far from the house to reach it and remain dry, and I was too listless, too careless of myself to make it a matter of much concern to me. Shielding my eyes I gazed up at the windows of Thornfield, knowing that one of the rooms up there was occupied by a madwoman, by a lunatic, by his wife.

I could not let these thoughts overcome me; I must struggle against my woe by myself. That thought seemed to trigger some deep emotion in me, for as I trudged back to the house, I was seized by a sudden fury of panic; I could no longer bear solitude. The closer I got to the house, the more desperate I was to be inside. The rain pounded down on my skin like a thousand needles, the thunder sounded in my ears, my feet beat on the ground in a frantic rhythm. Racing up the front steps, I grasped the large brass door handle in both hands and threw open the door with all my might.

Standing inside the doorway, as if in the act of opening the door himself, was a giant. I wondered briefly if, like Gulliver, it was really I was small and he was a normal size for this world; that was my final thought before I fainted.

I remember very little of the next day or two. There were times when I would wake from my feverish slumber and see Mrs. Fairfax or Sophie, sometimes even Adele, but there was one person there more frequently whom I did not recognize. It was the giant I had seen in the doorway. I would feel his cool hand on my forehead and I would be comforted; I saw him reading at my bedside and knew that all was well. He was like the guardian angel who watched carefully over me, though I knew not who he was.

My sleep was plagued with dark nightmares and terrible hauntings. I dreamed of ghosts and ghouls that wanted my soul, of shadowy creatures that tried to kill me; but then, in the middle of these terrors I would hear a soothing voice telling me that everything was going to be fine and the monsters would leave. A string of similar and many times incomprehensible memories is all I have of those few days. On the third morning I awoke quite rational to find Mrs. Fairfax sitting and knitting by my chair.

"Miss Eyre, you are awake! That is wonderful! You gave us quite a scare there. Mr. Bancroft was afraid that the pneumonia might last a week or more, but when your fever abated last night he said you would be fine." It registered in my mind that Mr. Bancroft was the man who had watched over me, the guardian angel. I did not yet have the strength to have any wish to stay up and ask more questions and was perfectly content to go back to sleep right after having a bowl of soup.

The next few days passed slowly. I saw no more of Mr. Bancroft and was forced to stay in bed with little to do besides read. Adele, though genuinely concerned about me, was delighted to learn that lessons would not start for a few more days. Mrs. Fairfax often sat with me and knitted while she talked with me. I did manage to learn from her that Mr. Bancroft was a new neighbor and had come to pay his respects to Mr. Rochester only to find him gone to London. I was glad to hear that the distance between his house and Thornfield was but four miles, making it very likely that he would visit often; if Mr. Rochester liked him, and I thought he would.

It was not until the next Monday, a full week later that we went back into the normal routine of life. My illness, which had been brought on by my neglect of all food as well as the rain, was by then completely gone and I was as usual. Every day I would ask Mrs. Fairfax when Mr. Rochester was expected to return, and every day her reply was:

"I have not had a letter from him yet, but I expect he will be away for some time." I was not the only one anxious for the return of Mr. Rochester. Mr. Bancroft visited twice in the next week only to find that the master was still in London.

The visits of Mr. Bancroft were rather a highlight in the lives of all of those who lived in Thornfield. I was already restless once again, eager to have some new distraction or some new study, both of which he provided. It may seem unusual that a man of rank would feel it right or proper to associate with a governess and housekeeper, but it did not happen at all unnaturally. When conversing with the amiable Mrs. Fairfax he somehow discovered that Mr. Rochester's extensive library included some very rare books on classic Greece which he had been trying to find; this, when coupled with Mrs. Fairfax's assertion that Mr. Rochester allowed anyone intelligent enough to wish to read them to do so, was enough to secure his presence at Thornfield.

It was on Mr. Bancroft's second visit to Thornfield that he learned of these rare tomes, and it was on this day that I say him for the first time since my illness. I was finishing up an English lesson with Adele when he walked into the schoolroom with Mrs. Fairfax, who was then giving him a tour of the house.

"Why, Miss Eyre," began Mrs. Fairfax, "I suppose you have not really met Mr. Bancroft." Turning to Mr. Bancroft she said, "Mr. Bancroft, you remember Miss Eyre; Miss Eyre, this is Mr. Bancroft." I quickly rose from my chair and, blushing slightly, gave a small curtsy.

"I have been longing to thank you, sir, for watching over me during my sickness." I told him. It was rather awkward to meet a man who I felt like I had known for a while now; he looked as though he agreed with that sentiment, for he was rather unsure in his actions.

"No need to thank me, Miss Eyre," he faltered, then smiling he said, "Though I was surprised to find that on my first visit to Thornfield Park I would be catching beautiful young and fainting women." My cheeks were immediately crimson from confusion. Beautiful? I was very glad that his attention was then diverted to Adele who, in her usual style, had also risen and had just presented to him her hand for him to kiss. Out of her very limited English vocabulary she managed to greet him in heavily accented English:

"Good afternoon, sir. Have you come to visit me?" This caused some laughter and did away with any of the discomfort that had been present before. Mr. Bancroft, being a perfect gentleman and not wishing to discourage Adele's attempts at English replied very cordially.

"Dear lady," he said respectfully, "I came to find Mr. Rochester, but if it would be convenient, I will gladly visit you when you finish your lessons." Adele, finding this reception very right and proper, decided that it was her place to invite the gentleman to have tea with her in half an hour. As neither Mrs. Fairfax nor I found anything to object to in the arrangement, it was settled that after Mrs. Fairfax finished giving him a tour of the Park he would join Adele, Sophie and me for tea in the parlor.

Tea was an interesting mix of polite conversation and a lesson in English for Adele. Her English, a subject to which she did not apply herself, was very elementary; she considered that as Mr. Rochester, Sophie, and I all spoke French, she had no need for English. Mr. Bancroft, we found, spoke German and Spanish, but not a word of French.

"Monsieur," Adele said confidently, "I do not speak the English good, and you do not speak the français, so we must only talk of the weather and the time. Only them I know." Mr. Bancroft smiled obligingly and proceeded to question her about both topics, much to my amusement. Needless to say, one can only talk of weather and time for a while, and soon he was teaching Adele to talk about things she liked to do. And so, with but a little assistance in translation from me, Mr. Bancroft and Adele were able to have their tea party.

This little episode had three main consequences: Adele was, for once, eager for her English lessons, I was formally introduced to Mr. Bancroft, and Mr. Bancroft, having been deemed by all three women in the house as an intelligent and well-mannered gentleman, had earned admittance to the house and library whenever he chose.

Two weeks passed, and still we received no word from Mr. Rochester. Mr. Bancroft had quite given up asking Mrs. Fairfax if she had heard from the master of the house. Mr. Bancroft himself was now a regular visitor. He would often come to the library to read while Adele and I continued her lessons, and then was invited to tea by the little lady herself.

It was during these tea parties that my friendship with Mr. Bancroft really began to grow. In addition to conversing with Adele, he also took pains to include me. It was very kind and thoughtful of him, for otherwise I would have been quite forgotten in Adele's ceaseless chatter. However, when we began a conversation in English she would now listen attentively and exclaim, "Je comprend! Je comprend!" to Sophie every time she recognized a word.

It was in this way that I learned all about him. He was from a middle class family from the Sussex, where his elder brother now lived. He had studied to become a doctor, but found it not to his liking, and upon inheriting a small fortune from his uncle, he decided to by a residence of his own. He was now occupying himself with learning about the region in hopes of purchasing more land. When I asked him about his interests he replied:

"I know a little about a great many things and I love to add to that knowledge. When I was a boy my sister Elizabeth and I would read book after book and talk to each other about all that we had learned. Our governess soon found that she was quite useless and simply gave us stacks of books that she recommended." At this juncture, he turned to Adele and taught her the word _book._ This delighted the girl and she proceeded to show off her knowledge by turning to Sophie and teaching her the word.

This was the general pattern of all of our tea parties. Occasionally we would be joined by Mrs. Fairfax, and sometimes, if it was a fine day, we would take tea in the garden. Besides these, there was little other variation in our routine besides that of conversation.

It was during the fifth tea party that we were startled by the sound of horses outside the window. Adele, ever eager, ran directly to the window to see if Mr. Rochester had returned with a present for her. I recalled the last time we had been startled by unwanted visitors and wondered if it might not be Mr. Mason. In any event, we were all soon crowded around the little window, trying to make out who the rider was.

Being the last to reach the window, I had all the benefit of hearing what the others thought without being given the chance to decide for myself. When Mr. Bancroft did move aside, I was able to see in an instant that the tall form belonged to my master, Mr. Rochester, owner of Thornfield Park.


	4. The Introduction

Many thanks to all of my reviewers, and especially my wonderful beta, Danielle! Thanks so much!

**Chapter 3: The Introduction **

As soon as I recognized the dark figure as my master, I withdrew from the window. It was only a second later that Adele exclaimed, "C'est Monsieur Rochester! C'est Monsieur Rochester!" and began running out the door and down the stairs. Mrs. Fairfax, who heard Adele's cries from her room, was also bustling about making last minute preparations and worrying about what he would like for tea.

I took advantage of this confusion to melt into the shadows unnoticed; though I longed to see Mr. Rochester again, I had no real desire to talk to him, especially if he was the same cold and imperious person he was when he left. It was also important that none of the other occupants of the room notice my distressed features, for it would not have been fitting.

In any case, I knew I would not have to face my master at present, for while everyone bustled about in preparation, I remained in the schoolroom. From my spot I heard Mr. Rochester's entrance and the ecstatic Adele greeting him. Leah ran back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room preparing tea while Mrs. Fairfax received orders concerning his schedule and supper. I remained in the schoolroom, unwilling to go down and unable to distract myself with other pursuits.

Sitting down at the table I idly looked over the abandoned tea things. Just then it occurred to me that I had not seen Mr. Bancroft in the midst of the confusion surrounding Mr. Rochester's arrival.

"Do you know if it would be convenient for Mr. Rochester to see me now," came a voice from the shadows, "or should I come back tomorrow?" I started slightly, but immediately recognized the voice as that of Mr. Bancroft. He was standing back between two of the tall bookshelves, obviously not wishing to be in the way.

"I am not sure." I replied cautiously, "He is usually very busy when he comes back from town, but one can never be sure. I know, at least, that he will wish to know of your presence here now. Would you like me to call Mrs. Fairfax to come and introduce you to him?"

"That would all be very well and good," he replied, "but I fancy it might be more appropriate for you to introduce me, as it is you and Adele that I have been visiting, not the good Mrs. Fairfax." It suddenly crossed my mind how such a situation might appear in the minds of others. A young man, no more than five and twenty, coming to visit with a governess and her charge whilst the master was away; was this how Mr. Rochester would see it?

The stories of impropriety in governesses told by Miss Ingram and her mother flashed in front of me; was this how I would be viewed by my master and others who heard about this situation? Dismissing these thoughts quickly, I attempted to find an excuse, but I found that, as always, I could not think of one.

"You are right, of course." I told him shortly. "Would you like to go now?"

"Yes, if you please." This was how I found myself approaching the dining room, preparing to introduce Mr. Rochester to his new neighbor.

When we reached the door, we heard the voices of Adele and Mr. Rochester talking about a _cadeau_. I hesitated slightly, but Mr. Bancroft opened the door for me and urged me onwards.

Mr. Rochester glanced up at me in surprise and immediately turned away coldly; I forcefully crushed the rising disappointment in my bosom, the little part of me that had hoped that he would smile and invite me to join him was now almost dead. Mr. Bancroft, who had witnessed the exchange and my rising colour, was carefully averting his eyes. Taking courage, I stepped forward and cleared my throat purposefully; if he could be calm and collected, so could I.

"Mr. Rochester," I began, "May I introduce Mr. Bancroft, your new neighbor. He has been wishing to meet you these past few weeks and would be much delighted to be of your acquaintance." Mr. Rochester turned in his chair and Mr. Bancroft, who had been standing behind me, stepped forward.

"I have recently moved into the county," Mr. Bancroft informed his host, "and upon coming to visit my new neighbors I made the acquaintance of ward and her governess, Miss Eyre. I have been looking forward to meeting the man about whom I have heard so much." Mr. Rochester stood up stiffly and held out his hand, apologizing for not having stood up sooner.

"Oh, do not apologize!" said Mr. Bancroft, "No doubt you have had a long and tiring journey; I would not have intruded on the first day of your return except that I was having tea with Miss Varens and Miss Eyre." He smiled at us, and I shrank further into the shadows.

"That must have been…pleasant." Mr. Rochester said emotionlessly.

"Why, yes, to be sure," replied Mr. Bancroft, "You are lucky to have a household full of pleasant, intelligent companions. I enjoy the company of everyone here in Thornfield. It must be very nice for you to live with such people, and I am sure you spend as much of your time here as you can." Mr. Rochester gave a slight sneer, but as his head was turned, I was the only one who caught it.

"Indeed." Was the only reply he gave. I melted further into the shadows, but was drawn back into the light by Adele, who wished to show me her present.

"I really must not intrude any longer on your kindness." Mr. Bancroft said to Mr. Rochester. Turning towards Adele and myself he continued, "Miss Varens, Miss Eyre, thank you for tea and your company during the last few weeks. I hope to join you again soon, if it is possible." He glanced at Mr. Rochester, as if to ask permission for such a request, but Mr. Rochester was not watching him; he was watching me.

I must have been a deep shade of red by this time, for not only had I felt it wrong for me to introduce Mr. Bancroft, but he had gone so far as to thank me, and Adele, for tea; he had even made it clear that this was not the first of his visits. My original fear of what might be thought of my conduct had increased every minute, and I was quite confused and worried. Mr. Rochester noticed my embarrassment, though not knowing its origin; he might very well attribute it to something other than what it was.

In the meantime, Mr. Bancroft realized that he would receive no answer, either negative or positive to his little request. Not in the least put out, he proceeded to take leave of us all first by bowing over Adele's proffered hand and then taking mine; the whole time I was very conscious of Mr. Rochester's critical eye upon us.

When at last Mr. Bancroft was gone I slipped out and went to seek the solitude of my own room. Adele and I rarely had lessons after tea, so I would not have to worry about making an appearance until supper.

Luckily for me, I was able to pass through supper without any trouble. Mr. Rochester spent the afternoon answering letters and clearing up the business that always comes when one has been away for a couple weeks. He worked right through supper and then had a late meal in his rooms. I was glad that I had avoided seeing him, especially because of his encounter with Mr. Bancroft earlier.

I knew not what he thought of Mr. Bancroft, but I did know what he thought of my conduct. His manner had clearly stated that he considered it improper for a governess to receive visitors, even thoses who came to see the governess' charge. What else could be meant by his cold demeanour?

I saw nothing of either Mr. Rochester or Mr. Bancroft for the next few days. I heard from Mrs. Fairfax that Mr. Bancroft had come to visit my master, but as I had been teaching Adele at the time, I had not been aware, which, on the whole, was probably for the best. Had Mr. Bancroft been at all tempted to come to see me or if I were to run into him and converse in the hall it could not have been viewed very favorably by Mr. Rochester.

It was the morning of the fourth day after his arrival that I again saw Mr. Rochester. I was heading to the library to prepare for Adele's lessons and he was just coming out of that room. Not having been watching my path, I ran into him.

"I'm sorry, sir." I mumbled, "I did not mean to bump you."

"Ah, Jan—Miss Eyre! I was just waiting for you in the schoolroom; I have heard of something that might be of interest to you." He paused, as if to draw out the suspense of the moment. His tactic worked well, for I was longing to know what could have caused him to overcome his coldness enough to speak to me in a somewhat civil tone.

"Well, sir?" I prompted impatiently.

"Well, Miss Eyre, I received a letter concerning you a few days ago." He paused once again, seeming to take delight in my impatience. "It was from Mr. Mason. It seems that on his arrival in Madeira he found that your uncle had already passed away, just as he had predicted. I have been asked to inform you that you are now in possession of a considerable sum of money."

I gave a small start. It seemed like it had been years since I had heard these names, though in reality it was but a few weeks since. The matter of my uncle and his connection with Mr. Mason had quite completely slipped my mind, and it was now a surprise to find that I would be inheriting the fortune of my unknown uncle.

"Of course," continued Mr. Rochester, "the lawyer in charge of your uncle's affairs must sort everything out before he comes here and everything is settled, but I believe that it would be enough for you to live upon comfortably. He mentioned something, I do not quite remember what, about some other relations of Mr. Eyre's who live in this county. If I remember correctly, Mason said that the lawyer was intending to visit them, too. But returning to the matter at hand, I must request that you agree to remain as Adele's governess until all is settled and we have procured another governess to take your place." Still caught in my memories, I hardly noticed a word he said and merely nodded absently; nor did I see the expression of unhappiness that was plainly written across his features.

"Very well then," he said briskly, "carry on with your instructing. I expect that the lawyer will arrive in town by the end of next week." With that, he walked rapidly out of the room, leaving me staring after him with a rather dazed expression on my face as I tried to take in all of the information I had been given.

There was only one thing in the entire conversation that struck me; for while I had forgotten about my uncle's situation, the information had been stored in some dark recess of my brain, whereas this news, this glorious information was wholly new to me: My uncle had near relations, making them my relations, who lived in this county.


	5. Inheritance and Friendships

Thanks for your wonderful help, Danielle! It saved this chapter:-) Also thanks to my reviewers LadyShard, Muskoka Girl, ZKS, aquamum, lisa, Cricket Maniac, ali72, the Mouse in the Opera House, and Blood Tears Dying Angel.

**Inheritance and Friendships**

The days preceding the arrival of Mr.Briggs, the solicitor, passed by speedily as I was in a flurry of excitement. The remaining members of the household remained unaffected throughout for he was going to stay at the inn in town and not at Thornfield. When I had time to reflect on Mr. Rochester's words, I realized that it really _would_ be in my power to support myself but whether or not I would want to leave was another matter entirely.

Life at Thornfield had a charm for me that no other place possessed. I was constantly learning new things from the books and people (especially Mr. Bancroft, who was now a regular visitor) and though there was a routine, it made the variations that occasionally occurred all the more precious to me. Added to all this, I always had the knowledge that Mr. Rochester was near; this, perhaps above all else, was what made the thought of departure hardest. While I was Adele's governess I had the promise of seeing him whom I loved, even if he was beyond my reach. If I were to leave I would have no excuse to ever see him again, nor would it be proper for me to search for an excuse to visit him but while I lived in the same house I could look upon meeting him as a necessary evil that could not be avoided, but if I were removed I knew that I would see it for what it really was: a much loved support to my poor heart.

I did not dwell long on these thoughts, they would do nothing to help my spirits now or my situation later; until Mr. Briggs came I was a governess, and it was not until then that I would be forced to make the decision of whether or not I would choose to remain one. In the interim, I decided that I would occupy myself with other matters, and so I asked Mr. Rochester if he knew more of the relations that were mentioned in the letter from Mr. Briggs.

"Miss Eyre," he replied with some irritation, "I do not see how it can matter to you whether or not your relations live near or far; you have never even met them! I am sure _they_ do not think about you as much as you think of them."

"But sir, I wish to meet them now." I returned stubbornly, "I did not meet them before because I did not know they were even alive, but now that I am aware of them, it is my duty to become acquainted with them." Mr. Rochester gave me an icy glare that clearly stated that he did not think it mattered one whit. We had talked little since the introduction of Mr. Bancroft to the neighborhood, and he was still very cold in manner. This icy front was seldom dropped, and when it did, it seemed almost as if he had to force himself to be other than loving and kind to me.

"Your relations have lived this long without making any attempt at meeting you," he argued, "so why should they suddenly wish to know you now; unless they are mercenary and wish to have your fortune, it will make no difference to them whether you live or die for they don't even know you." I shook my head emphatically and began to interrupt but he stopped me, "Oh, I know your persistency, and that I shall get no rest until I tell you all I know about your uncle's relations, so I might as well tell you all. Your uncle left the entirety of his fortune to you, excepting a small sum of money that will go towards the purchase of your cousins' mourning rings. One of the Miss Rivers, I believe there are two, is coming here to receive the bequest and will arrive at around the same time as Mr. Briggs."

"One of them is coming here!" I cried happily, "Why did you not tell me so at once, sir? This is wonderful! And to think that I have two relations, two cousins whom I have never known! We shall be a happy trio, I am sure, when we all meet." Mr. Rochester apparently did not share in my felicity.

"Yes, I received a letter from her a day since and told her the name of the inn of the town that she might know where to tell the coachman to take her. She will, of course, be present when Mr. Briggs comes here to read the will, and I daresay you and she will meet then, though whether she will be as delighted to meet you I cannot tell."

"This is wonderful!" I happily exclaimed, ignoring his last remark, "I shall finally meet my cousins! I will have a real, true family!" The joy of this prospect was almost too much for me to bear, and I ran happily from the room to join Adele, who was waiting for me in the school room. I did not catch the look of pain on my master's face as he whispered:

"And to think that I was almost the family that she longed to have!"

At length, both Mr. Briggs and my cousin arrived in the town. Our meeting and reading of the will took place at Thornfield the morning of the day following their arrival. My morning was spent in a flurry activity, though if asked what I really accomplished the list could not have been very long. Adele decided that it was her duty to station herself at the window and await the arrival of the guests.

We were rather a happy party to be preparing for the reading of a will, but as none of us had known the deceased, that may be excused. Adele, indeed, was not in the least fazed by the fact that she was eagerly looking for people who would be dressed in mourning clothes and might be somber and sad. She paraded up and down the drawing room, making sure to look out the window often. That was how I received the alarm of the approaching guests in time to see both Mr. Briggs and my cousin step out of the carriage.

My cousin was a fair young woman, not much older than myself. Her beautiful dark curls were visible from the upstairs window from which we watched her entrance. Even Adele, one of the harshest critics of beauty, proclaimed her "une belle femme." It was hard to believe that so beautiful a creature could be my own relation; I had such plain features, yet here was my cousin, a perfect beauty. I could only hope that her mind and soul were as beautiful as her face.

I do not pretend to know much of the legal procedures that were gone through that day. I understood enough to know that I was going to be mistress of twenty thousand pounds; this fact, though rather startling, was less pleasing to me than that I had also acquired relations and a family. This family, or at least one of its members, I was now about to meet.

"Miss Rivers," I began cautiously, when the legal affairs were completed, "I cannot tell you how pleased I am to finally meet you." The exuberance of my spirit was now no less than it was originally, and was my sole excuse for the lack of reserve that I exhibited. "I did not know that I had any relations yet living, aside from my uncle that is." Miss Rivers smiled kindly.

"I am delighted to meet you, too." She returned, "For though we knew we had a cousin, we did not know anything about her. You were brought up by your mother's family, were you not?"

"Yes, but I was at a young age sent to Lowood Institution, where I remained for some eight years." I replied, "It was just recently that I became a private governess and began teaching Adele Varens here at Thornfield."

"I am a governess, too, though I daresay you are better than I. At the moment my sister Mary and I are staying at Marsh End, our father's home." She paused and a sad look came over her eye, "My father recently passed away, so Mary and I are staying there with our housekeeper, Hannah, and putting everything in order." I gave her my sympathy, saying that it must be hard to lose an uncle and father in so short a time. She gave a soft laugh and replied, "Our father and uncle were not on the best of terms. I did not even know my uncle except by name; that is why we were not surprised or offended when he left all of his money to you, whom he did know."

"No," I corrected, "I did not know him. The only relations I have ever known were my mother's family, the ones who raised me. I never even knew I had an uncle until Mr. Rochester and….until recently." I blushed slightly at my illusion to the circumstances surrounding the discovery of my uncle.

"My mother used to tell us about your side of the family." Miss Rivers continued, purposefully turning her eyes away from my reddened cheeks. "She and your father were quite close at one time, I believe. It was only your father's marriage to a woman of superior birth that made it difficult for them to meet. I do wish you had come to stay with us when you were younger. Mary and I would have loved to have you as a playfellow."

We must have conversed like this for hours, talking about our pasts and futures, hopes and fears. If anyone had walked in on us near the end they would have supposed us old friends, even calling each other "Diana" and "Jane" as a proof of our affection. By the end of our tête-à-tête we had grown to like each other so well that I wished to invite her to tea, but I did not know if it would be appropriate of me to invite my cousin to tea in a house that was not truly my own.

"Oh! Unfortunately I am already engaged for tea today," said Diana when I mentioned the matter, "but if you are free tomorrow, you could come and have tea with me at the inn." Satisfied that I would not be intruding on the hospitality of anyone, I was on the verge of accepting when Mrs. Fairfax entered the room.

"Why, Miss Eyre," she laughed when she heard the drift of our conversation, "you may entertain your guest here, if you wish; it is certainly much more comfortable here than at an inn. I have no objection to the arrangement and I daresay neither does Mr. Rochester, so long as you do not cut short Adele's lessons."

We gratefully assented to this arrangement and speedily determined the appropriate time. With this happy conclusion we parted, both of us delighted with the new-found friendship and the hope of its continuance. As I watched Diana step into the carriage, Mr. Rochester came up behind me.

"Did you find your cousin as amiable as you wished?" He inquired coldly, though his voice held more curiosity than he probably wished it would. "I know you set very high stores on her being a well-bred and intelligent woman. She certainly passed Adele's test of beauty, but did she succeed in the area of intelligence and gentility?"

"I have found her even better than I expected." I replied, "And I have no doubt that we shall become good friends." I do not know if I imagined it, but Mr. Rochester seemed rather crestfallen.

"Maybe you will go to live with them now that you are wealthy." He said sharply, "You could by a house next to hers and live out your days in leisure, never working again. You can leave Thornfield forever now; leave Adele and Mrs. Fairfax," he stopped short, and then turned on his heel and walked towards the door. When he reached its threshold he turned back and said, "Go on and live your life, Janet, leave those who have loved you for those you do not even know. What right have I to interfere?" With that, he strode out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.


	6. Dreams and Realities

**Dreams and Realities **

When Mr. Rochester closed the door all of my former happiness concerning the arrival of my cousin vanished. It was as if it was a little bird who had visited me for the first time and flitted about until, startled by the sudden noise of the door, left as quickly as she came.

It was nearing suppertime, but as I didn't possess the slightest inclination to eat and dreaded the thought of having to face anyone in the household, I thought it best to stay in my room. I am not of a brooding nature, nor do I ever wish to increase my sorrows by dwelling on them, but outside a cold wind from the north blew in a terrible storm. The howling wind and pounding rain would have dampened even the brightest spirit, but to my dismal one it seemed a terrible sign of approaching disaster.

I heard in every gust of wind the crying of my own heart. Every drop of rain was carrying the despair and unhappiness of my situation. Each bolt of lightning was one of Mr. Rochester's stabbing comments, reminding me of all the happiness I might have had by forcing upon me the misery of my current situation.

Sitting down at my little desk, I took out my drawing pencils and a scrap of paper in an attempt to distract myself from these distressing thoughts. Drawing was something that usually engrossed me completely and forced every other thought from my mind, but this night it was different; it was as though an unseen force was guiding my hand over the paper. I sunk into a sort of reverie, drawing without thinking and yet, somehow, never ceasing to think. I was conscious of my surroundings, and yet it was as though I was not really there. I was unsure how much time had passed, but when I looked down at the sketch, I was startled to find the drawing complete.

With dark, bold lines, a turbulent sea crashing against jagged rocks at the bottom of a tall cliff. On the top of the cliff stood the figure of a young girl, tiny in comparison with the crag. The wind was almost a visible force in the drawing, whipping around the small figure and down the steep cliff. I had never seen any place quite like this one, nor did I ever remember thinking or dreaming of such a place until I saw it appear on the page below my pencil.

In a troubled state of mind I put away my picture for another day, a day when the sun was shining and I would have no reason to feel the evil presentiment that the drawing gave me now. I hastily prepared for bed, concentrating on the sounds of the storm outside in an attempt to keep my thoughts from straying to another darker path. It was just as I was climbing into bed that a thought struck me.

Running back to my desk, I quickly opened it and pulled out my drawing; I had not just imagined it. The figure of the young woman on the cliff was not alone. Clutched closely to her breast and wrapped in a multitude of blankets was the barely distinguishable form of an infant.

It seemed that though Bessie was now many miles distant, her stories and superstitions still held a power over me. I was almost frightened by my own picture, wondering if my subconscious was warning me of a coming danger.

Disquieted and uneasy, I blew out my candle and returned to bed. The wind and rain outside strengthened, and I fell into a restless slumber full of dreams of wailing infants and violent storms.

I do not know how long I was asleep, but when I awoke the moon was out and the skies had cleared. The wind whistled a low note as it touched the branches outside my window. Moments later came another moan; it was not from the wind.

My blood ran cold as a scratching sound came from the other side of my door. Knowing who it was did not diminish my fear, but rather increased it as I thought of the savage beast that had fought Mr. Rochester so viciously. I threw off my bed sheets and ran to the door to check the lock. Unfortunately, I was not in time.

In breaking my usual routine of going to dinner and returning to my room just before I went to bed, I had forgotten to secure my door. By some odd twist of fate, this forgetfulness coincided perfectly with when Bertha Rochester was able to elude her guardian. The door opened before I could reach it and I found myself face to face with the madwoman. Letting out a shriek of rage, she lunged towards me, but I was nimble and sprang backwards.

"Help!" I cried frantically, "Mr. Rochester! Mr. Rochester!" No one in the house stirred. The woman gave a low growl and began backing me towards my bed. In panic, I tried to find something to use to protect myself, but my small room furnished no such protection.

"Mr. Rochester!" I cried out again. "Please come, oh, for God's sake come!" Mrs. Rochester, angered by my shouts, took several steps forward, but did not attack. It was then that I saw the small knife she held clasped in her hands. She gave a loud, maniacal laugh and held the weapon out further so that it caught the moonlight and cast wild patterns of light on the dark walls.

"Heaven help me!" I whispered as I felt my back touch the cold wall. Just then the door flew open, but too late. The small dagger was thrown at the moment Mr. Rochester entered the door. I saw only Mr. Rochester's face as he looked from his wife to me, and then I fainted.

My fainting fit did not last for long, and I was soon aware of a dark form above me.

"Jane," whispered a deep voice, "can you hear me? Are you alright?" Everything was a haze of darkness around me and I could not recall where I was or why I was there. "Jane, dearest," the voice came to me again, "Listen to me. Everything is going to be fine now." Sleepily I opened my eyes.

"Edward?"

"Yes, I am here."

"What has happened? Is something going on? Why do you wake me?" I asked confusedly. It was so late, and I was so tired; why was I so tired?

"Are you feeling alright, Jane?" he asked softly.

"Yes, I feel fine. But what is the matter?" He did not reply. Rousing myself, I looked about me. I was in my room, lying on my bed, but the room was a complete disaster. My chair was upturned, the bed sheets were tangled, and the nightstand was turned on its side.

In a flash, the events of the evening returned to me. The picture, the infant, the unlocked door, the knife, and Mr. Rochester… it was almost surreal. Then it dawned on me that I should be dead, for I knew I had seen the knife coming towards me. Glancing down, I saw a deep gash of deep maroon blood on my left arm. My eyes widened and I looked at my master expectantly.

"What happened, Edw—Mr. Rochester, sir?" I asked quietly. He sighed.

"This is not the first time that Bertha has escaped her keeper, as you well know." He replied, "Nor is this the first time that she has gotten her hands on a knife from her tray." He stopped abruptly and turned away.

"Well, sir."

"Well, Miss Eyre," he answered, regaining his composure, "My _wife_ may be mad, but she is not unaware. She knew that we were to be married, though how she learned I hardly know. It is probable that she decided that you were a threat to her existence, and to what little of my attention she did occasionally receive in my rare visits. And so, in her twisted mind, it seemed natural enough to at least try to kill you."

I gave a shudder, and he returned it with a grim smile.

"She might have succeeded, too," I shivered, "Except that you came in time."

"No." he said sharply, "it is not because of me that you are now alive. Do not give me undeserved praise. I was too late, it was only by chance that you fainted and fell to the ground before the knife could reach you. I was even unable to keep it from cutting you when it hit the wall and then fell on your arm. No," he repeated more energetically than before, "do not thank me for saving you when I did nothing. Rather, curse me for not reaching you in time to stop my crazy wife, or for not keep such a watch on her as to make such nightly excursions an impossibility for her."

While he spoke he began to dress my wound. It was small in size but rather deep.

He continued to talk as he worked, as if attempting to fill the emptiness of the night with his never ceasing conversation.

"I know you understand my situation. Although our marriage was not possible because of the existence of Bertha, it has remained a secret from all except those who must know. Not even Mrs. Fairfax, as you may have discovered, knows the truth of the matter." A faint smile passed his lips.

"As a matter of fact," he continued, "that dear woman now believes that I am quite a worthless lover. She dropped a hint of disapproval to me the other day, saying that young women are not to be thrown about and easily discarded. Though she did not say it outright, I am sure that she feels that my conduct to Miss Ingram and yourself is quite scandalous, especially as she does not know the facts of either case."

At length, he became too absorbed in his own thoughts and concerns to say anymore to me and he fell into a thoughtful silence. My own silence was even greater than his, for while his was brought on by an excess of thought, mine was brought by an inability to think at all.

It took him very little time to see to the cut, and when he was done he simply tucked me into bed as if I was a child. It was not until he was at the threshold of my door that he spoke again, picking up his original tone and conversation.

"No, do no thank me for having caused you so much misery. We both know that if it were not for my foolish mistakes things would now be very different between us. All I ask of you is that you do not hate me for all that I have done wrong."

Drowsiness had returned to me, and I could not reply, but my heart felt more than any words could have expressed, for I was sure that his words and actions could mean only one thing: despite his frosty manners, he still loved me.


	7. Tea Parties

Here's the next chapter! I hope you all like it. Thanks so much to Danielle, my beta, and to everyone who reviewed. You're amazing!

**The Tea Party**

Soon after I awoke the next morning, Mr. Rochester came to my door accompanied by Carter, the physician who had also attended Mr. Mason when his sister, Bertha Rochester, had attacked him.

"I dressed the wound last night, Carter," I heard Mr. Rochester saying as they approached my door. "I wanted to make sure that it would not become infected, but as there was no imminent danger, I let you have your sleep." There was a sharp rap at my door, and I quickly opened it and allowed them to enter.

"Ah, Miss Eyre, it is nice to see you again." said Carter cheerfully, "Mr. Rochester tells me you had a fall and grazed your arm on a knife you were carrying. I have come by to see that it will be alright." I glanced at Mr. Rochester and nodded gently. It would not do to oppose my master, I knew, so I allowed the lie to go uncorrected.

Carter rolled up the sleeve of my gown and looked at the cut on my upper arm. I ignored the doctor completely as he checked over me, focusing my attention on my brooding master. Mr. Rochester stood at my window, looking out across the lawn. His face was impassive and I was unable to decide what sort of mood he was in. When Carter was finished, which was a few minutes after his entrance, he declared my arm perfectly fine and said that he would show himself to the door. Mr. Rochester nodded his assent, and then we were alone.

For the first few minutes, neither of us said a word, but at last I was determined to let him know my mind.

"Sir," I began, "I am quite distressed by the fact that you keep lying to everyone to cover up the existence of your wife. Mrs. Fairfax and everyone else deserve to know the truth. I am not a thrown-off and helpless damsel, nor are you a 'worthless lover.' Besides this, it would be easier for all of us if they were made aware of the truth. It is wrong to lie, and every lie requires another lie to support it." Taking a breath, I was about to continue when he raised his hand in a gesture for me to stop.

"You are mistaken." He said quietly, "It would not be easier to tell the truth. Quite the contrary, it would make everything quite impossible for both of us; I would be treated as a heartless, conniving, Godless man who wants more wives than are his share, but this is nothing to me compared to what you would suffer. You would be scorned, pitied, and looked down on by all of the women in the area, and the men would assume that you were, as they so crudely put it, _easy_. The honorable men would avoid you as a rule, while the dishonorable ones would give you no rest for the same reasons." He paused and shuddered, but continued, "Perhaps, if I had told you the truth from the beginning, but I never foresaw such disaster from the concealment. When you first came, there was no reason to tell you; by the time you deserved to know, I could find no way to tell you, and as you gave me no reason to suppose my feelings returned, there was no imminent need to inform you. I also knew that if I ever dared to tell you and you did reciprocate my feelings, your sense of honor and duty would lead you to leave me."

"But concealment is wrong, sir." I broke in, "You should have told me when you first declared that you loved me. In fact, you should have told me about her and then _shouldn't_ have told me anything about your feelings! It was cruel to lead me, to tempt me to do something that was wrong in the eyes of men and God!" I turned away abruptly.

A few minutes passed without a sound, and I almost thought that Mr. Rochester had left the room, but then his voice pierced the silence.

"I know that you have invited your cousin to tea today. I have invited our neighbor Mr. Bancroft, as well. It would be much easier for Mrs. Fairfax and Leah if we were to take tea together, so I expect that when you and Miss Rivers are ready to eat, you will inform us." And so saying, he left the room.

I sat frowning at the door for several minutes after my master had passed through it. Part of me was incensed. How could this man think that lying was a better way to get through hard times? Why did not he tell me before any of this had happened, so that much of our pain would have been spared?

Even though my feelings were in turmoil, the rest of Thornfield continued much as it usually did. At the normal time, Adele and I met in the library for her morning lessons. We studied grammar, geography, and arithmetic, which were three of Adele's least favorite subjects. By the time those lessons were done, we were both tired of trying to focus on schoolwork when our minds were elsewhere. Consequently, the moment they were over, Adele and Sophie went outside for a walk, and I went downstairs to Mrs. Fairfax.

The time between the end of Adele's schoolwork and Diana Rivers' arrival for tea flew by so quickly that I was scarcely aware of it, when the sound of a carriage came to our ears.

"Here comes your cousin, Miss Eyre!" I heard Mrs. Fairfax call to me from a nearby room that she was then cleaning. I hastily collected my things and went to the drawing room, which Mrs. Fairfax had insisted that I use to receive my guest. When I reached the drawing room, however, I found it already occupied by Mr. Rochester and Mr. Bancroft. Apologizing, I was attempting a hurried retreat when both gentlemen stood and stopped me.

"Miss Eyre, You must stay." Said Mr. Rochester at the same time that Mr. Bancroft said:

"Please don't let our presence change your plans, Miss Eyre. We have not had the pleasure of meeting for several weeks now, and I should very much enjoy your company, as well as your cousin's. Mr. Rochester was just telling me that Miss Rivers would be visiting and that you had promised that you would have tea with us."

Blushing, I reentered the room and positioned myself as far from Mr. Rochester as possible without seeming too rude. As soon as I was seated, Mr. Bancroft moved his chair closer to mine so that we might converse more easily.

"I have missed our little tea parties very much." He said, smiling as he remembered the aforementioned meetings. "I have seen Miss Varens more than once since Mr. Rochester's return to Thornfield, but you seem to be busy every time I call."

"I was not aware that you called on Adele or I certainly would have come to join you at tea." I answered frankly. I recalled no such thing, nor had anyone ever told me about the visits, which was remarkable and strange for a small group of acquaintances such as the group at Thornfield. Before we could continue however, Leah appeared at the door and presented Diana Rivers.

Diana was duly introduced to Mr. Bancroft, and we all took our seats again. A few minutes of polite conversation between Diana and me followed, until Mr. Rochester began questioning her about her family, her situation as a governess, and several other points. Mr. Bancroft then turned to me and we began discussing books.

Our conversation, though interesting in and of itself, could not hold my attention for long. My eyes were invariably drawn to Mr. Rochester and Diana, who were animatedly discussing one of the most recent publications.

"I don't mean to say that it was horrible," exclaimed Diana, "but his former works are so stirring and emotional that this is poor in comparison."

"I beg to differ," protested Mr. Rochester, "for while his previous poems are sweet and simple, the complexity and intricacies of his more recent poems display greater maturity. The latest poems also portray characters with more depth and development."

Mr. Bancroft, noting my abstraction, followed my eye to the pair that were seated comfortably at the nearby table. His next words can only be pardoned by the fact that he was blissfully unaware of any of the events that transpired before his arrival in the neighborhood of Thornfield.

"The make a handsome couple, don't you think so? I am surprised that such a man as Mr. Rochester has remained single for so long. One would think that he would have found some young lady, one like you or Miss Rivers there." Luckily for me, he was facing Mr. Rochester and Diana and so could not see the rapid change of my countenance and the deep blush that spread across my cheeks. When I did not answer right away he continued.

"Mr. Rochester is a very good man, and I do not see why any young woman would refuse his offer, and as there is no want of fortune on his side, there seems to be no reason at all for his remaining single. But perhaps, as I do not know him well, I may be unaware of some of major character flaw that would explain such a situation." At this point I absolutely had to interject.

"Oh, no, indeed!" I cried, "Mr. Rochester has no faults of character such as you describe!" Then, recollection myself, I modified my statement so as not to seem too forward. "That is to say, Mr. Rochester is no worse than any ordinary man. No fault of temperament or character marks him out as a bad man; I would say, rather, that he is very noble and honorable." I stumbled on for a few moments longer, trying to defend my master without seeming to be defending him too strongly.

When I stopped my blundering, I noticed with surprise that the conversation at the other side of the room had ceased and Diana and Mr. Rochester were watching us intently. Diana had a look of amusement on her face, as well as a slightly questioning look that seemed to ask if there was something more in my defense than I was trying to let on. Mr. Rochester, on the other hand, pointedly looked away when he saw that I perceived him watching me. Before he turned his head, however, I noticed that he looked caught between a sort of desperate hope and jealously.

For a few minutes more I could not bring myself to say any more, but Mr. Bancroft sensed my distress and was kindly keeping up a one-sided conversation. Meanwhile, Diana and Mr. Rochester continued their conversation, though in a more subdued manner than before.

A few minutes later, Leah brought in tea. The division of our groups continued for the rest of the time, despite attempts by both Mr. Bancroft and Diana to bring us all together. Mr. Rochester was clearly bent on avoiding conversation with me, and as is often the case, the will of one person against an event can foil the attempts of many people in accomplishing it.

Tea was soon over, and both Mr. Bancroft and Diana made their excuses and left together. Mr. Bancroft departed from me with a promise to visit again soon, adding that he hoped that I would this time be free to see him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Rochester's expression, which seemed to say that he knew the reason that I had not been informed of Mr. Bancroft's previous visits.

This farewell concluded our intercourse, and as Mr. Rochester showed Diana and Mr. Bancroft to the door I retreated to my room, hoping to and succeeding in avoiding Mr. Rochester completely. In peaceful solitude I was able to muse over the events of the day; but that is not to say that I came to any satisfying conclusion concerning any of it.


	8. The Invitation

Many thanks to Demoiselle Rose for helping me with the French in Adele's lines and to Danielle, my beta. You are great!

**The Invitation **

Mr. Bancroft was true to his promise of calling again soon, for he stopped by the very next day, just minutes after Adele and I finished our morning lesson. Mr. Rochester was out on his horse, Mesrour, at the time, so there was no confusion as to whether I was or was not able to receive Mr. Bancroft. Mrs. Fairfax came directly to me when he arrived, and we both met in the drawing room.

"Miss Eyre," he greeted me with a solicitous smile, "How are you doing today? I know that my visit is rather unexpected, but it is a fine day outside and I had no pressing business, so I decided to ride over." I smiled in return.

"The unexpectedness of your visit does not make it less desirable, quite the contrary, in fact; its surprising nature adds a hint of unpredictability that makes life interesting. I am sorry to say however, that Adele ran out to play in the gardens with Sophie and Mr. Rochester took advantage of this fine day to go for a ride. I do not know exactly when he is expected to arrive home, so I may be your only source of company today."

"That is quite alright." He replied. "If I do not warn my neighbors that I am coming, I should not expect them to be always at home. Perhaps you will take a stroll in the gardens with me?"

"That sounds charming." I answered, and so we set off through the orchard.

The colors of autumn were everywhere around us and the shinning sun made the golden leaves even more beautiful to behold. I could not resist the thoughts that drew parallels between the declining season and declining love; and yet, while these somber thoughts were present, the natural beauty of the land did not escape my notice.

"Does not this call to mind," Asked Mr. Bancroft, "the words of that wonderful poet Cowper:

_O while my eye the landscape views,_

_What countless beauties are display'd;_

_What varied tints of nameless hues,-_

_Shades endless melting into shade."_

"Yes, it paints a very pretty scene, but not without its own sorrows. Remember that he later says:

_The leaves forsake the willow grey,_

_And down the brook they whirl and wind;_

_So hopes and pleasures whirl away,_

_And leave old age and pain behind."_

We were silent for a few minutes longer, caring only to walk together down the orchard lane. It was not until we heard voices nearby that either of us broke the peaceful silence that encompassed us.

"I am not sure if I could," a lady's voice drifted into our hearing, "but I should be getting home. I have already stayed longer than I planned." I thought I recognized the voice as Diana's and was planning to come forward when Mr. Rochester's unmistakable tones were also heard. We saw them coming up the main road, not very far from the orchard. Diana was seated upon Mesrour and Mr. Rochester was holding the reins and leading the horse while they spoke.

"Please stay, Miss Rivers." He was saying sincerely, "In fact, why don't you come and stay with us at Thornfield. It would be more convenient for us all, for you would have the comforts of a private home and I and the others will not have to travel to see you."

I paused, as did Mr. Bancroft. He glanced at me, and then motioned to the path in the other direction, as if to say that it might be best to leave them to themselves. I couldn't help noticing that his glance also had a questioning air, almost as though he knew that something was wrong with this scene. With hasty steps, I made my way to the path he indicated and tried my best to appear unaffected by the little conversation we had accidentally overheard.

As usual, Mr. Bancroft was the personification of delicacy and understanding. We continued our walk in a silence widely different from the original peaceful silence. I refused to speak until I knew that my voice would sound steady and unaffected, which meant that I did not speak for some time. When I did, it was only to remark:

"I do hope Diana comes and stays at Thornfield for a while. She is my closest relation in this world and I would love to spend much more time with her. Besides that, she is such a wonderful person in herself that I would love her even if she was not my cousin." Mr. Bancroft nodded his assent, but did not immediately voice a reply. It was obvious that he was deep in thought.

Within a few minutes, we were back at Thornfield. More as a matter of form than anything else, I invited Mr. Bancroft to come in and have tea. He accepted, and so we made our way into the drawing room. It was there that we found Diana and Mr. Rochester, already returned from their walk.

"Jane!" cried Diana excitedly, "We are going to have the most wonderful time! Mr. Rochester has invited me to come and stay at Thornfield until I return home, and I have found that I need not leave for another week!" Though truly glad that I would have more time to spend with Diana, I could not prevent the seed of uncertainty that crept into my heart. How could I truly rejoice in a circumstance that might lead to future unhappiness, however happy it made me for the moment?

"Yes," Mr. Rochester said, smiling at her obvious delight, "I have arranged that she will have a very nice room." Then, turning to me, he continued, "You will not mind, Miss Eyre, if I move your room to one closer to the one that Miss Rivers will be occupying. It will be nice for her to have someone nearby who knows their way around the house, and as there are no suitable rooms by the one that you currently occupy, it would be better for you to move."

"Oh!" Diana interjected, "I am sure that any of the rooms near Jane's will be fine. You need not worry about that. We shouldn't make Jane move all of her things from a room that has been hers for so long just for this."

"It is not a problem at all," Mr. Rochester assured her, without even a glance in my direction. "Miss Eyre does not have so many things that she can't move them from one room in this house to another." I blushed, but as everyone's eyes were then fixed on Diana, it did not much matter.

"I suppose, then, if it is really no problem…" she trailed off.

"Splendid!" cried Mr. Rochester, "I knew you would consent."

"It makes us all very happy that we shall have the pleasure of your company for a little while longer." added Mr. Bancroft. "You have made many of our meetings much more lively and interesting."

Diana, who was slightly flustered by the praise of two gentlemen at once, blushed and made a humble remark about her own insignificance, but she remained the center of attention for some time. This in itself was not a bad thing, for I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to want much outward distraction. It was not until Leah brought in the tea things that Diana and Mr. Bancroft recollected themselves and once again took pains to include me in their conversation.

Tea time passed uneventfully, and Mr. Bancroft soon took leave. When he had gone Diana and Mr. Rochester began arranging how her luggage was to be brought to Thornfield. I was sent out with some menial errands of arranging the room and making sure everything was in order. Mrs. Fairfax, who joined me in this task, was in an uncharacteristically dark mood.

"She may be your relation, Miss Eyre," she told me as she dusted some imaginary dust from the mantel, "but why should Mr. Rochester invite Miss Rivers to stay when he has only just met her? It does not make sense! And he is already so attentive to her, I am sure you have noticed it. Indeed, no one could have missed the way he singles her out. If anything should have happened, it should have been that you had asked Mr. Rochester's consent to invite your cousin to stay at Thornfield while she was in town; but then," she recollected herself, "everyone has their own way of doing things and it is not my place to go criticizing them because they do it the same way that I would."

I chose not to answer because I had no wish to prolong a conversation that could not do me any good or give my master the credit he deserved. The room seemed full of questions that lingered in the minds of Mrs. Fairfax and myself. What did Mr. Rochester's actions mean? Was it only thoughts of natural kindness that gave rise to this invitation, or was there something more behind the affair? Neither of us voiced any of these dangerous questions, but Mrs. Fairfax had other worries that she then communicated.

"Miss Eyre," she began, "I know that things between you and the master did not… go well, just as they did not go well for Miss Ingram." She paused and looked at me nervously, "But I was thinking that it might be right for you to warn your cousin that Mr. Rochester's attention is not always as strong as it appears."

"No, indeed! There is no need for that!" I cried in indignation, but then I remembered that Mrs. Fairfax did not know the whole story. I continued in a softened tone, "I do not think that Diana believes that his attentive springs from anything other than good-natured friendship."

Mrs. Fairfax replied by giving me a pitying look and continuing to dust.

"It is true!" I cried desperately, "He does not love her, he cannot, it is not proper!" I stopped; it had not been proper for him to love me, either. Mrs. Fairfax made a few sympathetic noises and persisted in her cleaning. A few moments later Mr. Rochester himself entered the room, followed closely by John, who was carrying Diana's bags.

"Is everything in order?" he asked Mrs. Fairfax cheerfully.

"Yes, sir," she replied shortly. He gave her a quick look, and then his smile seemed to broaden even more.

"Wonderful! Miss Rivers is down in the drawing room with Adele at the moment." Turning to me he said in a commanding voice, "I believe it is time for Adele's afternoon lessons to begin, so go and fetch her."

Even though I had long ago accustomed myself to his commanding style, it seemed that this was more brisk than necessary. Nevertheless, I complied with his demands immediately. Adele, who was very sorry to have been outside with Sophie when Mr. Bancroft had come to visit, was quite inattentive during the lessons.

"Je regrette de ne pas avoir été là lorsque Monsieur Bancroft vous a rendu visite!" was her constant complaint throughout the whole lesson.

"Another day, Adele." I told her patiently, "He will come and visit us again soon. He is not as cruel as others, he will not ignore us." She refused to believe me, saying that Monsieur Bancroft would not come again for some time and that she would have a very dull week with no company.


	9. Dining with Mr Bancroft

Sorry about the delay in updating, but I've made this chapter a little longer than usual to make up for it. Once again, thanks go to Danielle, my wonderful beta, and to everyone who has reviewed.

Enjoy!

**Dining with Mr. Bancroft**

We were to visit Mr. Bancroft's for a few hours after tea for supper and entertainment of some sort. That left all of the morning for the normal duties of life, such as teaching. Adele and I were not even half way through her lesson when Mr. Rochester sauntered into the library and announced that she was dismissed.

"Miss Eyre," He began as soon as Adele had quitted the room, "I came to find out at what time you and Miss Rivers will be ready for the carriage this afternoon. As neither of you ride, it is impossible to get to Mr. Bancroft's estate by any other means than a carriage."

"We shall be ready by six, if that is quite convenient, sir."

"Yes, quite convenient. I will tell John to have the carriage prepared by then." With this point settled, I expected that he would immediately leave the room, but this was not the case. I turned away and began preparing Adele's next lesson, but after three minutes of enduring his idle stare, I turned back towards him. He looked just as he had before the wedding; tall, imposing, but with a happiness near over flowing.

"Well, sir?" I asked.

"Well, Jane." He returned with a scarcely contained laugh. Then, recollecting himself and becoming grave, he proceeded with what I determined had been the real object of his visit all along.

"As all of the legal matters are settled regarding your inheritance, I believe it is time for us to decide what will happen next. You are welcome to continue teaching Adele at Thornfield, but it is now in your power to do as you please without having to work for an income." Glancing at his impassive face, I wondered which he would prefer, not that it mattered in the long scheme of things.

"I would like a little time to consider it." It was a falsehood, and we both knew it. It was obvious to the both of us that I had thought a great deal on the matter, though without deciding what I would actually choose to do.

As the matter stood at present, there were three options. I could stay at Thornfield as Adele's governess, even though I did not need the money. The advantages to this were being able to see Mr. Rochester fairly often and never having to worry about being idle or being accepted in a social circle beyond that which Thornfield supplied. Another of my choices was to leave Thornfield forever and use my inheritance to make my way in the world. The obvious faults in this plan were that I had no connections that would earn me admittance into any social circle, and it was difficult for a single woman to simply enter a neighborhood without knowing anyone in it. The third and final option, which was perhaps the best, was to ask Diana if I could stay with her and her sister Mary. This would solve the problem of not knowing anyone, and I could always pay them rent. The only obstacle was that it would be awkward to ask Diana without feeling as if I was imposing on her kindness.

This dilemma had become a matter constantly in my thoughts of late, though most of the time I chose to ignore the nagging completely. In short, I had no idea what I was going to do, and Mr. Rochester was aware of it.

"As you wish," was his curt reply. He dallied around for a few minutes longer, but I refused to turn around and acknowledge his presence. A short time after he departed, Adele came skipping back into the room, announcing in her broken English that Mr. Rochester "told to me that I should comes back."

The normal way of life at Thornfield had several major changes because of Diana's decision to stay with us for a week. For one, Mr. Rochester carefully oversaw my removal from my bedchamber to one in the guest quarters, right next to Diana's chambers. These rooms were on the second floor, much closer to the library, but I did not like them as much. The fine furniture and splendid decorations of the room did not fit my simple style; not to mention that I missed the proximity to Mr. Rochester's room which gave me the opportunity to see him in passing through the halls.

The bright side to our new arrangement was that Diana and I became even closer friends. In our spare time, she and I would study together and walk in the gardens. When I found out that she spoke German, she agreed to teach me, and many nights were spent reading from a collection of German books with which Mr. Rochester supplied us.

Mr. Bancroft's visits were even more frequent, if that was even possible. He often joined Diana and me for tea, and Mr. Rochester would occasionally invite him to dinner. Due to his recent arrival in the neighborhood, he had not been able to return our invitations with his own, but as he was just then completely settled, he invited Diana, Mr. Rochester, and I to his house to dine.

Diana was in a flurry of excitement all morning; though she was generally a very sensible girl, she seemed to have taken temporary leave of her normal reserve and was acting like Adele before a party.

"Jane," she asked me nervously beforehand, "Do you think I had best wear my white dress or the grey one? Wearing white is always such a statement; it is what all the fashionable women do nowadays, but it might make me seem too forward, as if I was trying to show myself off. But the grey dress is so formal and stiff! I always feel like an old matron when I wear it."

"I believe the white one will be just fine." I replied with a smile, but she didn't mind a word I said.

"And what will I say to him when I meet him? I could say 'Good afternoon,' but that is very conservative. Maybe I should say, 'What a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Bancroft…"

She trailed on in this manner for a while, but I stopped paying attention after several unheard or unheeded suggestions. We made our way downstairs to the drawing room and were met by Mr. Rochester at exactly six o'clock. The carriage was ready, and so we made our departure.

When we stepped out the front door, a cold northern wind caught us in its wintry dance, blowing my hair about my face and making Diana's scarf twist in chaotic patterns in the air. Mr. Rochester stood next to me and he glanced concernedly down at me when a violent shiver passed through my body.

"Let me fetch you a cloak, Jane," he said, beginning to turn back towards the house in quest of one. However, he seemed to remember something when he had taken a few steps. "Miss Rivers," he addressed Diana, "You will certainly want a cloak, too! I shall fetch you one as well."

"No, I'm quite fine," returned Diana. "It is just that Jane is such a slight creature that she gets cold very easily. Go and fetch her a cloak, but I do not need one."

"Are you certain?" He questioned unbelievingly.

"Quite certain."

"Very well then," he said shrugging, and made his way back into the house. It was times like this when I wondered whether he still cared for me. His genuine concern for my well-being made it seem like he did, but whenever this concern would become evident he would pointedly include Diana in it, too.

With a sinking heart, I remembered when he had flirted with Miss Ingram. This was not the same. It was evident that he cared for Diana, though it was questionable whether he cared for her more than he would care for any other woman of intelligence. When he had courted Miss Ingram, I supported myself with the notion that he did not, could not love one such as her; with Diana, it was a different matter completely.

Diana was an amazing, intelligent woman. Her ease in company and wonderful breeding and manners made her welcome company to everyone. She was well read, fluent in German, and could draw tolerably well. No, I could not support myself by knowing for sure that he did not love her, nor could I tell myself that his love for her was false, a pretense; I could not save myself in any way from the despair that would follow if he did love her.

He would not marry her; of that much I was certain. He learned from his mistakes, and he would know that to attempt to marry her when his previous marriage was known to others would be impossible; but he could still love her. This was the final, deadly blow to my heart; with Blanche Ingram it had been a matter of family politics and wealth; with Diana, it was about love for a beautiful, intelligent woman who was his equal. If his heart surrendered to her charms, no matter how unknowingly she charmed him, I knew that I would be crushed.

It had been hard for me at the beginning, when Mr. Rochester had been deliberately cold and cruel, but oh how infinitely worse now that he was kind to me and in love with another woman! I admired Diana before I knew that Mr. Rochester might love her, and just as I could not stop loving him, I could not stop admiring her; I was only waiting for some final proof of his affection for her, then the struggle between love for one and admiration for the other would have torn my heart to pieces.

With these thoughts on my mind, I silently accepted the cloak with which Mr. Rochester returned and offered to me. His hands lingered on my shoulders for a tiny moment after he threw it over my shoulders, but immediately afterward he turned to Diana and began talking about the weather.

The carriage ride was very short, but also exceedingly painful; Diana and Mr. Rochester kept up a lively conversation about music, and I was left listen to the agonizing murmurs of a breaking heart.

At Mr. Bancroft's house, I had the advantage of being forced to converse and thereby be unable to dwell on painful thoughts. Mr. Bancroft was exceedingly kind to both Diana and me, and I was somewhat happier at seeing that Diana and Mr. Bancroft kept up lively conversations much more often than Diana and Mr. Rochester did.

"Tell me, Miss Rivers," Mr. Bancroft was saying to Diana, "I know you read German fluently, but have you ever read any of the great German classics?"

"Oh, of course!" was her reply, "My sister Mary and I often read them together and compare our translations. To be sure, we must have our dictionaries right beside us the entire time, but that does not discourage us from trying to read them."

"And which book do you find the most interesting?" He prompted.

"Oh, _Faust_ by Goethe, to be sure. There was one passage in particular that Mary and I just loved, but I do not remember it now." At this point, Mr. Bancroft went so far as to fetch the book in question so that Diana could find what she was looking for.

In the meantime, Mr. Rochester and I, as we both did not speak any German, were unintentionally excluded from the conversation. As a result, we were left to make small talk, which was particularly difficult as neither of us was accustomed to forcing ourselves to speak. After several dreadfully long minutes of talking about the possibility of rain, Mr. Rochester said rather abruptly:

"German is a very harsh language, don't you agree, Miss Eyre?"

"Yes, sir," I returned, "French is so fluent and melodic that German is very hard and sharp in comparison." We both turned and listened as Diana, who had quickly found the lines that she mentioned, was reading the paragraph allowed to Mr. Bancroft.

"_Vor allem haltet Euch an Worte,  
dann geht Ihr durch die rechte Pforte  
zum Tempel der Gewissheit ein.  
Mit Worten lässt sich trefflich streiten,  
mit Worten ein System bereiten.  
An Worte lässt sich trefflich glauben,  
vom Wort lässt sich kein Jota rauben._

"Isn't that amazing?" she asked with a sigh of contentment. Mr. Bancroft, who had been hanging on to her every word, replied to this question in German. I was curious about the meaning of this passage, but had no way of discovering what it meant. As I have since learned German from Diana, I will tell you now that it is in praise of the power of words so that you may understand delight of Diana.

But no matter how delighted Diana was with the passage, it could not have surpassed the delight of Mr. Bancroft in comparing their ideas and translations about the whole book as well as that particular portion of it; they discussed German for the rest of the evening.

Mr. Rochester and I eventually lost the original stiffness of talking about the weather, but our quiet conversation never reached the animation of some of our previous discussions. We did talk about Diana for awhile, each of us trying to praise her more than the other did; despite this, it was difficult to tell where his admiration ended and love began. The question how_ much does he love her?_ haunted my thoughts, but the answer was first one thing and then another.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, ending with an invitation for Mr. Bancroft to come to Thornfield the next day. Then Mr. Bancroft handed Diana and me into the carriage and Mr. Rochester chose to sit with the driver because the night turned out to be a fair one.


	10. Making Arrangements

Here's the next chapter for you! Special thanks go out to Danielle for being a wonderful editor, and to my mother for listening to me rattle on about this story. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter; it was greatly appreciated!

**Watty08:** I've finished editing your chapter, but your private messaging is disabled and I can't send it to you. Could you contact me with your email address or enable the private messaging? Thanks!

**Making Arrangements**

We did not see Mr. Bancroft for a few days after our dinner. We fell into a sort of routine at Thornfield; Mr. Rochester would ride out to visit neighbors and attend to business in the morning while I taught Adele, and Diana would find some occupation such as reading or knitting; then we would all come together for tea, and Diana and Mr. Rochester would take walks or do something of that sort while I finished Adele's lessons.

This pattern continued without interruption until the day before Diana's departure from Thornfield. This was also the same day that Mr. Bancroft came to visit us once more.

It was Adele's morning lesson, and she had been in a state of distraction the entire morning. In vain had I attempted to explain the history of Rome in a way that would seem interesting to her, and so when she rushed to the window at the sound of horse's hooves I went to the window with her.

"It is Monsieur Bancroft!" she cried delightedly. "He has at last come for to visit to me!" I did not even bother to correct Adele's English as she hurriedly pulled me down the stairs and into the drawing room to await his arrival. Diana had also heard the horse and seen the approaching rider, and within seconds after our own appearance in the drawing room she made a breathless entrance.

A few minutes later, Leah showed in Mr. Bancroft. When he came in he expressed some surprise at finding the three of us all assembled in the drawing room to greet him.

"I know it was an unexpected visit, and as such that I could hardly expect everyone to be home and free to see me, but this is a great pleasure, indeed." He told us laughingly. "Shouldn't Adele be learning from her great volumes of history right about now? But never mind that…is Mr. Rochester at home?"

"I believe he is out visiting some of the small farms that boarder his property," replied Diana directly. "He mentioned something about cows escaping onto his lands, but I don't quite remember whose cows they were..." This made Mr. Bancroft laugh again, and he proposed a walk in the gardens until the return of the master of the house.

"Oh! Oui, Monsieur Bancroft!" was Adele's immediate reply, "I will go and get Sophie so that we all can go together!" Mr. Bancroft smiled indulgently after her as she skipped out of the room, and we began making our way to the gardens.

"I am sorry that I could not visit before," Mr. Bancroft apologized, "but my cousin (whom, by the bye, I have never met) is going to be married soon, and there was very necessary business that I could not put off. Otherwise, I would certainly have come to visit you. As it is, I am afraid that I might not see you, Miss Rivers, for quite some time; your residence is in a part of the country through which I rarely travel."

This solemn thought left us, for a short time, in quiet reflection, until the ever-cheerful Adele came bounding after us with Sophie trailing behind her. Adele soon monopolized the conversation, and little was said that did not directly pertain to her. Diana was unusually silent, and even Mr. Bancroft, who was generally so cheery, was more serious than before. This was the state of our little party when Mr. Rochester rode up on Mesrour.

"Why the sad faces?" he questioned as he dismounted, "Only the little coquette looks happy; the rest of you look quite glum." No one answered for a moment, and the Mr. Bancroft replied:

"We were just reflecting on the wonderful visit that Miss Rivers has had at Thornfield and how sorrow we shall be to have her depart from our company."

"Ah, yes," returned Mr. Rochester, "It is a sad thing that she is to leave us so soon, but we shall certainly invite her to come and visit us again. What say you to that, Miss Rivers?"

"I am afraid," Diana responded, "that it might not be possible for me to come and visit in the near future. I must go home to be with my sister while we mourn the loss of my father, who passed away before I came here. And you must not forget that I am a governess, and as such I cannot take holidays whenever I please. No, it might not be in my power to come and visit for at least a year."

"Surely not a whole year!" exclaimed Mr. Bancroft in dismay, "Surely you may come visit before then!"

"Unfortunately not, though if it were in my power to choose, I would much rather be here with all of you than teaching even the brightest young minds."

We were silent for another minute, and then Diana spoke up again:

"I may be obliged to leave Thornfield, but that does not mean that I must leave my friends, too. I have been thinking it over for a while now, and today I have decided: I must go home, but you may accompany me and stay at our house. We would then have the advantage of enjoying each others company while still fulfilling our duties."

It took a moment for us to absorb this new idea, but then our group became alive with animation at the prospect of this delight. We were all talking at once, sprouting new schemes of excitement and delight that would at once allow Diana to return home and for us to retain the enjoyment of her company.

Common prudence soon took its hold in our minds once more, however, and our fanciful schemes were neglected for more pragmatic ones. Diana's proposal that we should all stay at Moor House with her was almost immediately thrown out by Mr. Rochester and Mr. Bancroft as encroaching on her during a time of mourning, as was Mr. Bancroft's plan that we might stay with some of his relatives (the same relatives who were planning the wedding that had been the cause of his absence).

"Et moi?" asked Adele impatiently as the adults puzzled over the arrangements, "Where am I to stay?"

"You will not be accompanying us, of course," was Mr. Rochester's irritated reply, "You would only be in the way of our arrangements."

"Not I!" was Adele's indignant response, but it was no use; she found that no matter what she said, Mr. Rochester was firm in not allowing her to go. Even her dear friend Mr. Bancroft was too engaged in settling his own arrangements to be bothered to take her side in the argument.

With this being the case, I realized the one flaw, the one fault that would change the trip for me: if Adele was not going to be there, should not I, as her governess, stay with her at Thornfield? My whole purpose at Thornfield was to teach Adele, so what right had I to accept an invitation to stay at my cousin's house? While Mr. Rochester and I moved in the same circle, it was only because the scarcity of gentility in the neighborhood and my connection to Diana, who was free to move in whatever circle she chose in this neighborhood because she was not employed by anyone in this area. I, on the other hand, had to remember the line between companion and master that divided me from Mr. Rochester.

These thoughts remained unvoiced during the entire walk through the garden that then ensued. I dared not presume to talk of my own arrangements were I to go because that would lead to great embarrassment if Mr. Rochester were to say then and there that I would not go either; nor could I bring myself to mention anything relating to my own forced stay at Thornfield because that would be accepting my fate.

The others were so wrapped up in their arrangements that it was some time before they noticed my silence. When they did, they assumed that it was due to the length of our walk and the brisk wind that was then picking up force and so we made our way back to the house.

"Do you think we should stay in S— or the village in which Marsh End actually resides?" Mr. Bancroft asked.

"Oh, probably S— would be the best," replied Mr. Rochester, "I have stayed there before and they have a very nice inn."

"Yes, but is the ride very far? We do not want to be traveling ten or fifteen miles every day to visit the occupants of Marsh End; if we did that we would have very little time to actually visit them because we would spend the whole time riding back and forth!"

"It is not but two or three miles off at most. We will have no trouble at all in riding back and forth."

"That is perfect, then. We shall get lodgings in S— and ride over to visit you, Miss Rivers—but I have just remembered something! You do not ride, do you, Miss Eyre?" Mr. Bancroft asked as he turned towards me.

"Jane may stay with me," replied Diana immediately. "We will have no trouble accommodating one guest, and as she is our cousin it is only right that she should stay with us." I did not meet Diana's eyes as I politely declined the invitation.

"I do not think it will be possible," I whispered shyly, "for Adele will be staying at Thornfield, and as I am her governess…" I trailed off with a slight sigh.

"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried Mr. Rochester. "Do you wish to go, Jane?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then it is certainly your duty to accompany your cousin back to her home to meet the rest of your family. Adele has been working hard the entire time that you have been teaching her, and I believe it is now time for you both to have a well-earned break. Now turn to your cousin, Jane, and apologize for having refused her offer before."

This speech lifted a great weight from my heart for more than just the obvious reasons; Mr. Rochester's declaration proved that the distinction between servant and master was not so harshly drawn as I had thought. By allowing me to travel with Diana, he was telling me that even though he was my employer, he was not strict or cruel.

Mr. Rochester's little speech also brought about more discussions on the particulars of the arrangements. Who was to stay where, when we were to arrive, and all of the related preparations were soon laid out in perfect order before we returned to the house.

Adele was, of course, severely disappointed; however, Mr. Rochester promised to bring her a splendid _cadeau_, and this pacified her somewhat. She and Sophie retired to their rooms to avoid the talk of the trip in which they would not be included, and Mr. Bancroft soon left to settle his affairs at home so that he would be able to come. This was how, when Diana also left to see to her things, I found myself alone in the parlor with Mr. Rochester.

"Jane," said he, "I know that I recently asked you to decide whether or not you would be staying on as Adele's governess, but it is not necessary for you to reply until after our return from Miss Rivers' home. Adele will have a holiday in the interim, and you will have time to get to know your new found family. If you decide that you would rather…" he paused slightly and took a deep breath, "If you would rather stay with Miss Rivers, then I will find another governess; if you choose to remain with us, as I am sure Mrs. Fairfax, Sophie, and Adele all wish you to, we will return to Thornfield together and you will continue her education."

"Thank you, sir," was my hesitant reply. "I would certainly like to know my family better before I make my decision, though I am sure I will love them all as much as I love Diana."

"Very well, then. That is settled." He replied, and we both went our separate ways to ready ourselves for the coming trip.


	11. Going to Marsh End

I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to update, but life is getting very busy for me. I am going to try to update more frequently, but I think I'll be able to update every week. Sorry!

Thanks go to my wonderful beta, Danielle, and to watty08, Mousie Moolie, Mini Nicka, Norkio Kuro, Muskoka Girl, Grantaire, Bubbly Spirt, Storynight, Terriah, FirstDraft, maggie-mags, and marjonR for their great reviews.

**Going to Marsh End**

The morning of Diana's departure from Thornfield Hall was unseasonably sunny and warm. We sat down to a cheerful breakfast, and talked of the coming weeks we were to spend in the company of the Rivers family. My original desire of having close relations was by no means diminished, and Diana could barely contain her excitement with the prospect of me finally meeting her sister and brother.

With eager anticipation did I look forward to the time that would reveal whether or not living with my cousins was an option open to me. I knew full well that though my previous attempted escape had ended with my continued residence at Thornfield, it would be better for me to make my escape from that manor as soon as I could.

By remaining at Thornfield, I had opened my own eyes to the possible agonies that lay ahead; though events were proving that Mr. Rochester's affection for Diana was purely that of a friend, it had given me a taste of the anguish that would lie in store for me if I stayed. Mr. Rochester, though he would probably never attempt to deceive any woman as he had me, was still very capable of loving another. His anger against me for my decision to distance myself from him had subsided, and was now replaced by a coolness which clearly expressed that my blunt refusal built a damn that blocked the river of his affection.

With his indifference, I could bear; that was not my greatest concern; nor was I afraid of his courting another such as Miss Ingram because he would not love anyone like her. But if he fell in love, truly in love, with a noble woman, then what would I do? My nature revolted against ruining the happiness of two people whom I respected, but my heart would crumble when I saw love in his countenance as he gazed upon her.

I must leave; this resolution was once again upon me, trapping me in its painful logic. Unlike before, however, it was tempered with reason and was not allowed to have complete reign over my actions; I would wait for matters to unfold before I made a definite decision _how_ I would carry out this resolution. In the mean time, we were still at Thornfield eating breakfast, and I was determined not to dwell unnecessarily on these dark thoughts.

Mr. Bancroft, who declared he would come early expressly for the purpose of wishing Diana a fair journey, came so early that he interrupted our breakfast. As we were almost through with our meal, he abandoned all ceremony and sat with us as we finished. Mr. Rochester could not refrain from dropping several sarcastic comments as to the reason behind Bancroft's impropriety, and though Diana blushed, she was pleased at the same time.

"We shall have quite a delightful visit at Marsh End!" Mr. Bancroft exclaimed merrily. "I have heard the rapture with which you describe the surrounding moors, Miss Rivers, and have difficulty containing my desire to see them. You must take us on many long walks across them so that we may admire and grow to love the place which you so idolize."

"My admiration for those moors," Diana answered, "though as sincere as any of the truest of loves, springs from memories of them as well as of their own charms. It may be that an outsider could not estimate them as I or my family does."

Mr. Rochester, who was a great conversationalist on the point of natural beauty, joined the conversation saying, "Any place of such natural and simple a beauty as you describe cannot fail to please the eye of a person of understanding."

"Yet many have often claimed that it is in too rugged and wild a form to earn the title of true beauty."

"Only those that have not learned to find in the wildness of nature that perfect balance and symmetry can claim that thought; all who have studied any aspect of Mother Nature must be aware of her perfection," replied Mr. Bancroft.

"Just so," agreed Mr. Rochester wholeheartedly, "And I find that whenever I look across the moors of England I am struck with how the land reflects the hearts and souls of the people who dwell in it. These simple, rugged people who inhabit the countryside hold more beauty in their lives than the finest families of London.

"But as much as I would love to continue this conversation right now, I am afraid we must defer it until we meet again." Mr. Rochester said as he stood up from the table. "W e must now say goodbye to Miss Rivers, else she should not get to Marsh End until late tonight." With that, he called to John to bring Miss Rivers' things to the carriage, and we all went out to say our final farewells.

"Goodbye, Miss Rivers," Mr. Bancroft said, switching suddenly to a sadder tone, "We will miss your company."

"Goodbye?" Diana asked laughingly, "How can we say goodbye if we are to see each other in less than two days' time? And do not forget that we will see each other almost every day for two weeks once you arrive." He smiled charmingly and replied glibly:

"Two days are a long time to be separated from a friend, and two weeks is too short of a time for a visit."

"Yet we must not expect friends to remain with us when they have other duties," Diana reminded him. "And at the end of two weeks I must resume my job as a governess, and you must return here to take care of your business." Mr. Bancroft readily agreed, but there was a glint that seemed to suggest that he had a few other ideas on that point as well.

Our final arrangement for the coming trip was that Diana would travel two days ahead of us, giving her family time to prepare for our arrival. I was to stay with Diana at Marsh End, her family's residence, and Mr. Rochester and Mr. Bancroft were to stay at lodgings in the town of S—.

Mr. Bancroft's prediction that the days between Diana's departure and our own would be dull was correct. We did little besides prepare for our trip and talk about what we should do once we got there. I gave Adele, who was still upset at being left behind, a list of books that I expected her to read before I returned, though all the while I was wondering if I _would_ come back.

That night I could not fall asleep. For some reason, an unsettled feeling seemed to have settled over me, leaving me cold and uneasy. The full moon hung low in the sky, shining through my window with a mystical brilliance and illuminating every detail of the room.

I still occupied the room that was near the room Diana used even though she was no longer visiting. Mr. Rochester never mentioned the possibility of moving back to my former room, the one nearer his, and I did not dare to ask if I could. I longed to be back to my old room, though there was nothing but sentiment that made it superior to the one that I occupied; in fact, this room was situated in a much more convenience spot because it was near the library. Still, sentiment could be a much stronger bond than convenience.

The uneasiness which had settled on me in the night did not disappear with the rising of the sun. I awoke with the feeling that I had forgotten something important. The feeling was so strong that I decided to go through all my bags to make sure that I had not forgotten to pack anything that I might need. This proved a fruitless effort, and I went down to breakfast even more certain that there was something that I should remember.

Breakfast was a quiet affair; I dined with Mrs. Fairfax while Mr. Rochester took his breakfast in his rooms. Mr. Bancroft came over shortly after breakfast, and he and Mr. Rochester made the final arrangements.

The journey itself was uneventful. We rode in Mr. Rochester's chaise and four, and made very rapid progress across the long stretches of country road. Our conversations were mainly about the surrounding countryside or the unseasonably warm weather. Mr. Rochester was unusually silent, but Mr. Bancroft was full of life and spirit, talking nonstop about everything under the sun. It was not until we were within a few miles of Moor House that Mr. Bancroft slowed in his speech, and that was only to absorb every aspect of the surrounding land.

The family at Marsh End received us with great pleasure, and the inexplicable apprehension that I had felt earlier left me. When the carriage came to the door, we saw Diana hastily throw open the door and run to greet us. A smile illuminated her handsome features as she affectionately kissed me on the cheek and gave her hand to Mr. Bancroft.

"You have been so long in coming that I was worried that something must have delayed you!" cried Diana in a merry voice. "I am sure that I have been waiting for you this hour and driving my sister and brother half crazy with praise of all of you."

"I would not have been delayed for the world!" Mr. Bancroft responded immediately, "Nor would Mr. Rochester or Miss Eyre, I am sure. We were quite anxious to be here as soon as possible that we might dine with you tonight. Are we not too late? I am sure I would be very upset if we missed supper, as would be Mr. Rochester and Miss Eyre, because we have set so much hope on spending much time in your company." An exchange of compliments between the two young people followed this short speech, and went on for some minutes without either party being in the least aware that they were ignoring the rest of the company.

In the end, Mr. Rochester resorted to clearing his throat rather loudly to bring their attention back to the task of introduction. When Diana was at last reminded or her duty as guest, she promptly introduced us.

"Jane, how quiet you have been!" She exclaimed as she turned to me. "I am sure you must be longing to meet your cousins! This is my sister Mary and my brother St. John. Mary, St. John, this is our cousin Jane Eyre, her employer Mr. Rochester, and their neighbor Mr. Bancroft." Diana concluded. The customary greetings followed, and then my cousins invited us into their house.

The house was by no means a large one, but it was cozy and comfortable. Far more interesting than the house, however, were its occupants. Mary was every bit as beautiful as her sister, though her brown locks were a shade or two lighter than the dark curls of Diana. I knew from Diana that she was very intelligent as well, and that like her sister she was learning German. I did not get an opportunity to actually converse with Mary until supper was served, which was a half hour later, and then I found that she was more reserved, though just as polite and kind as Diana.

I did not have the chance to speak to Mr. Rivers the entire evening. Indeed, he did speak very much to anyone; rather, he spent the evening examining his guests with his clear blue eyes. Once or twice Diana and Mary reprimanded him for being unsocial, but it had no affect on him whatsoever and he continued to study his visitors with the same unrestrained curiosity that was not even curiosity. It was rather how one would imagine that a gambler studies a horse before he bet on it, trying to decide whether or not the horse would win the race. I was not the only one who noticed his behavior, for I saw Mr. Rochester glancing at him with a strange look on his face, as if he couldn't decide whether to be offended at Mr. Rivers' staring or to welcome him as a sensible man that he showed himself to be on the infrequent occasions when he spoke. Mr. Bancroft's eyes were too distracted by another occupant in the room to notice any strange behavior on the part of his host.

When supper was over, Hannah, the old servant, showed me to the room in which I was to stay. Shortly thereafter Mr. Bancroft and Mr. Rochester took leave and went to settle in at their lodgings. Of course, Diana managed to extract a promise from the gentlemen that they would come the next day. And so I settled into Moor House with high hopes of a wonderful visit ahead.


	12. Tensions Arise

Sorry that it has taken me so long to update! My life is running full speed ahead and I'm having difficulty keeping up with it. Thanks go out to Danielle for being my beta, and to Lisa for helping me with the German. Thanks a bunch!

**Tensions Arise**

Each day spent at Marsh End saw my affection increase tenfold for both the place and its inhabitants. We awoke early every morning and went about our household duties until breakfast time. Afterwards, Diana, Mary and I would take long walks across the moors before we all sat down to our studies; after all, we were three governesses. Most afternoons, the gentlemen came from their lodgings to visit for several hours. Our lives continued in this fashion for several days.

From the beginning, I insisted that they treat me like any other family member and so allow me to help with the necessary daily chores. Diana and Mary, although reluctant at first, were not displeased to have some help around the house. They also understood that it made me feel that this was the place that I belonged; it gave me the right to say that I was more than just a guest in a relative's house; I was at home.

We lived in enchanted harmony for the first days; Diana, Mr. Bancroft, and Mary had begun to teach me German, and in return Mr. Rochester and I were teaching them French. Mr. Rochester refused to learn any German, declaring that it was a harsh, unsophisticated language. This sparked many lively disputes, as the trio of German speakers rushed to defend their second language.

This period had a surreal quality about it for me. Mr. Rochester's cold politeness had melted away with our departure from Thornfield. It was as though we had been transported to a time and place in which he had no wife, and he had never before asked that ill-fated question. I could see in his eyes that he had not forgotten this distant past, but he was willing to ignore it. For my part, I was very careful in all my actions. I knew I could not betray any special feelings for him, though they burned constantly in my heart. I must maintain my composure and so must he. There could be no sign that anything had ever occurred between us; we both knew it. Occasionally, however, I caught him watching me when he thought no one was looking.

On one such occasion, we were all walking down a path near Marsh End when, unexpectedly, St. John decided to join us in our ramble across the moor. The path was so narrow that it would only admit two abreast to pass along it at one time. Mr. Rochester and Mary were leading the party, and St. John and I were but a few paces behind them. Loitering behind us were Mr. Bancroft and Diana, who were conversing in German. For a minute or two, we were silent, listening only to the sounds of the landscape and the whispers of the pair behind us. Abruptly, St. John addressed me with:

"I see you wear no ring on your left hand, Jane. Why are not you married?" Well, reader, I was so much taken by surprise with St. John's bluntness that for some time I made no answer.

"You are a very hard worker," he continued, explaining his thoughts more thoroughly, "as you prove every morning in your studies of German. I do not see why any man of God would not wish to take you on as the humble and dutiful wife I know you are capable of being."

Mr. Rochester laughed aloud.

"Janet is too much of a pixie to be captured by any mere mortal, even if he were a man of God." He said this with a sarcastic smile, and before I could utter a sound, St. John jumped to my defense.

"_Miss Eyre_ is your employee, and in the few days that I have known her I have seen great devotion to God and a determination to better herself and those around her. She is not a 'pixie,' as you so rudely put it, but a dutiful and dedicated young woman. I believe that she has great potential and, if she were to devote herself to it, she could help spread the word of our savior."

It was clear to me that Mr. Rochester was struggling between amusement at my cousin's earnestness and offense at his sharp reprimands.

"_Miss Eyre_," returned Mr. Rochester dryly, "Is indeed a little fairy. However, I must agree that she is a devout little fairy. Not even the most cunning knave could make Jane any less pious or could at all change her soft and loving nature." St. John decided to ignore Mr. Rochester completely, and returned to our original subject: marriage.

"It still does not cease to amaze me that you are not already married," he continued, "However, I suppose that God has hardened your heart against your previous suitors so that you could reach your full potential by marrying a man of God and helping him with his work." The only reply I could manage was:

"God works in mysterious ways." This response pleased St. John, and we fell back into silence for a while.

The animosity between Mr. Rochester and St. John only increased as time passed. No matter how trivial the matter, they were incapable of keeping peace. It soon became a trial to the rest of our party, and at every gathering we all took pains to keep them apart. This was a difficult task as Mr. Rochester was often the center of attention, and was often rather cynical. St. John could not approve of his cynicism, and never failed to censure it.

As for Mr. Bancroft and Diana, they were growing dearer to each with every passing day. It was with great pleasure that Mary and I watched them walk together through the lanes surrounding Moor House. In fact, it was due to Diana's attachment to Mr. Bancroft that I really came to know Mary.

Mary was much more reserved than her sister, though not at all less polite or well mannered. At first we talked mainly about our lives as governesses and the children we had taught. Mary had much more experience as a governess than I had, and we had many interesting conversations comparing our stories.

"You say you have only ever taught this sweet little French girl?" Mary asked incredulously, "You are lucky to have not had to teach any spoiled children yet!"

"Have many of your charges been spoiled?" I asked, slightly fearful that if I ever tried to find a job elsewhere I might have to deal with difficult children.

"Oh, not all of them, but it always seems like it was all of them. When they are good children the time flies past, but when they are bad children the time drags on and on. One little girl I had to teach kept asking her mother to do her work for her. The worst part was that her mother agreed!"

We continued exchanging stories, and eventually our conversation drifted to the subject of learning German.

"Diana and I both wish to learn German proficiently so that we may be able to teach it and earn a greater salary that way." Mary told me with a smile, "However, she tells me you speak French fluently."

"Oh yes," I replied, "I was taught French by a native Frenchwoman at Lowood Institute. It has come in quite handy, for the little girl I tutor is French and knew very little English when I first began teaching her."

"Do you think you could teach me?" She asked in a hopeful voice.

"I will teach you only if you agree to teach me German at the same time." I returned with a laugh. And that was how our lessons began.

These language lessons took place every morning after breakfast but before the gentlemen came over. Diana and Mary taught me a little German every day, and in return I taught them basic French. I daresay it would have been entertaining for an outsider to watch as we mixed up our verb tenses and mispronounced every other word, but for us it was painstaking work.

"No, no, no!" Diana said with a laugh, shaking her soft curls frantically, "It's pronounced _'vo-hair'_ not _'woe-her'_!"

"But it is spelled '_woher'_!" I cried, "Why wouldn't it be pronounced _'woe-her'_! I thought you said that German was supposed to make a lot of sense." I stopped and attempted the sentence once more. "_Woher kommst du?_ There! I said it!" Diana and Mary exchanged glances before collapsing in a fit of laughter.

"You said it correctly," Mary laughed, "but now can you say it as though you were addressing someone formally?" I simply glared playfully at her, and we all laughed some more.

"I thought you were learning a language, not telling jokes," said St. John sternly as he entered the room. "I see nothing funny about learning a foreign tongue."

"That, St. John, is because you are so determined to learn something that you do not stop to smell the roses," replied Diana promptly.

"Miss Eyre would make a better use of her time if she were to study Hindustani with me. She is very studious, and in studying with me she would not be distracted by the two of you."

"That may be true, St. John," Mary said, "but we are not only learning a new language for the knowledge that it provides us, but also for the pleasure of learning with good friends and enjoying ourselves." St. John made no reply, but it was clear that his ideas had not altered. St. John found the newspaper for which he was searching, and once again left the room. I immediately turned to Diana and asked:

"Why does my cousin wish to learn Hindustani? Is he planning on traveling to India?"

"You are aware that my brother is in orders, correct?" asked Diana. I nodded, for I remembered him mentioning that he had a parsonage in a neighboring village. "Well, it has been his dream to become a missionary in India. He has thought about it for a long time, and now he has decided that it is time to make this dream come true."

"That is very noble of him." I observed.

"Noble, yes, but not perhaps very wise." Diana said ruefully. "We have often tried to convince him to stay in England where he would be safe from disease and war, but he believes that the only way that he can completely fulfill his duty to God is to spread His word to a people who were previously unaware that it existed."

"Well, if he believes it is his duty, I suppose that no one can or should attempt to stop him." I replied. The sisters only nodded noncommittally.

We called off our lessons for the rest of the day, preferring to draw some pretty scenes of the countryside. We set off with our pencils and sketch books in hand, and had a joyous afternoon on the moors.

**A/N**: The German phrase means "Where are you from?"


End file.
